


Memories Worth Remembering

by lynxzpanther



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Fluffy Ending, M/M, Mild Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 14:18:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6156331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynxzpanther/pseuds/lynxzpanther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Moreau wakes up on his twenty-third birthday in a blanket cocoon with a pillow dragged loosely half-over his head to block out the late morning sunlight. The room is empty, and he takes a moment to revel in how that doesn’t shatter his calm, one of so many constant examples of how far he’s come despite how far he still has to go to be anything resembling okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories Worth Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written proper fanfiction in years, but it feels fitting that Jean's birthday would be the first. It is, however, very barely spellchecked, and not beta'd. If you tell me about any errors, I would be very grateful. <3
> 
> I am rileybluuseys on tumblr, and one of the many members of exyspacegays.

Jean Moreau wakes up on his twenty-third birthday in a blanket cocoon with a pillow dragged loosely half-over his head to block out the late morning sunlight. The room is empty, and he takes a moment to revel in how that doesn’t shatter his calm, one of so many constant examples of how far he’s come despite how far he still has to go to be anything resembling okay. Napoleon’s nowhere to be seen, which means Jeremy is still somewhere in the suite. When Jean emerges from his blankets long enough to grab his phone from the table next to his bed, the time reads 10:47, which means Jeremy skipped his morning class. Jean should disapprove, especially when Jeremy skipped because of him, but he can’t help but be pleased that Jeremy, impeccably responsible and determined Role Model for the team, skipped class so that Jean could sleep in on his birthday and still share breakfast with his boyfriend. 

His phone also tells him that he has three texts and countless Facebook notifications, so he starts with the latter. Most of the Trojans and a few of the more social media savvy Foxes must have hit one when Facebook prompted them to allow it to post the standard “Happy Birthday” to Jean’s page. It’s so rote and meaningless that it should be annoying, but having over twenty people care even that much is so unfamiliar that he feels illogically pleased. (He’s going soft.) More personally, Laila and Alvarez teamed up to make a picture collage of photos from the last year and a half and followed it with a lengthy written message that includes phrases such as “best friend” and “so blessed to have you in our lives”. He still can’t imagine anyone liking him that much, but his hand lifts unbidden to brush against one of the Sharpie drawings fresh on his cheek, the ones that Laila updates every few days like clockwork so that Jean can look in the mirror and see a reminder of their affection instead of Riko’s cruelty, and he thinks he’s starting to believe the unbelievable--that he’s worth their love. 

The texts are harder to read. Millie’s isn’t; too young for a Facebook (in spite of continuous protests), she sends a string of emojis ranging from confetti to blowing kisses to puppies representing Napoleon. He quickly saves that one to his phone’s sim before moving on. 

The remaining two are from Kevin and Neil. Both are worse at expressing emotional sentiments than even Jean, and forcing themselves to acknowledge the day tells Jean more than their bland birthday wishes. They understand better than anyone else the too often unwelcome but nonetheless significant achievement of surviving yet another year. Kevin knew that Jean never wanted to live this long, and Neil certainly suspected: these are the result of a shared effort to be more than their pasts and unspoken reminders that they’re proud of him for making it this far. It’s too good--so good it hurts--and too overwhelming, so he deletes both messages and hides under his pillow for a while longer, remembering slowly how to breathe. 

It’s past eleven when Jean surfaces, but he doesn’t get up yet. Instead he snatches up the quilt folded over the bottom half of his bed (lent to him by Martha, each square cut from Jeremy’s worn out childhood clothes) and wraps it around his shoulders like a cloak. He sits cross-legged and moves the pile of envelopes from his bedside table onto his lap, opening the cards one by one. 

The first is a standard card from Abby Winfield, who seems to think he’s still one of her wayward kids to look after in the wake of his long months spent hiding recovering with the Foxes. The dog on the front of the card looks like Napoleon, though, so he props the card up next to his bed anyway. The next three are all from Renee, because she worried that if she only sent one, it might get lost in the less than reliable post in her part of the world. (He decides not to ask how many she sent in total, if three made it all the way to LA.) They all have thin woven bracelets inside the cards, all in faded pastel colors and mostly likely made from leftover and otherwise useless scraps of material, and the cards say she learned to make them herself. He immediately spends the next five minutes attempting to secure each one to his wrist, eventually succeeding by using both his other hand and his teeth to secure the knots. (He could just wait and ask Jeremy for help, but he still forgets that option too often, and anyway he wants to wear them now.) The last card is one from all of the older Foxes, including all three girls (he can tell Dan forged the other two signatures, but that kind of makes him like it even more). Inside the card is a photo from last summer when all of the important Foxes came to California for a beach vacation, a thinly veiled excuse to check up on him before Renee shipped off to parts unknown and to hang out with the Trojans in their downtime. The group photo is one of Dan’s, addicted to her camera as she is, but this one was taken by a passing stranger she waved down with too much trust and cheer, so she’s in the picture too. She’s on Matt’s back, arms over his shoulders and legs around his waist, both of them laughing. Allison is conspiring evil with Laila, Alvarez, and Renee. Kevin is more likely than not complaining, and Andrew looks seconds from pulling a knife, maybe held back by Neil’s presence at his side and loose grip on the hem of Andrew’s shirt. Aaron is half-hidden by Kevin’s taller frame, probably intentionally, texting Katelyn as Nicky reads over his shoulder and offers “advice”. It’s more or less a snapshot of the chaos one expects from the rowdy group, but Jean’s favorite part is where he and Jeremy stand off to one side, listening to whatever Kevin finds important enough to risk Andrew’s ire (undoubtedly exy). Jeremy has an arm slung over Jean’s shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world and both of their postures are relaxed. Jeremy’s smile is one of the rarer ones, only seen when none of his many anxieties are preying too heavily on his mind, and Jean’s mouth is curled up too, the hint of dimples shadowed on his cheeks. As he holds the print up to the light for a better look, he spies writing on the back and flips it over. He’s surprised to see that it’s not Dan’s handwriting but Neil’s, and his heart skips a beat when he reads the message: keep making memories worth remembering.  


It’s something they talked about recently, because in Renee’s absence (and with her very forceful suggestion) Neil is the only person other than Kevin who Jean trusts with revelations and realizations too dark for his best friends at USC (their mutual distrust of psychiatrists is one of their common unifying traits, which also helps). At some point, Jean became aware of the gaps in his memory where his childhood should be. In the early years with the Moriyamas, he blocked out any memories of Before, because they made it too difficult to focus on surviving whatever new hell each day brought. He expected memories to return once he stopped trying to suppress them, but by now he’s pretty sure they’re gone for good. He’s left with too few good memories of Before, and too many bad memories of After, and none of them are memories he actually wants to keep. But without them, who is he? Neil claims to be a person built around lies; Jean is Riko’s abuse, but he’s also California sunsets and the feeling of Napoleon’s fur and his hand linked with Jeremy’s and Alvarez calling plays to him in the French he’s taught her during games. Becoming a person worth being means living long enough, being vulnerable and risking pain, to make memories worth keeping.

It’s another kind of too much, one that’s had longer to settle into his bones and provides a dull ache rather than a suffocating panic. He brushes his fingers over the image of he and Jeremy before taping the picture up with the growing collage of life and color spreading across his wall. It’s another assertion of self, the freedom to display things that are important to him without the fear that it will all be used against him. Every time he looks at the drawings, postcards, pictures, and notes, he feels determination course like adrenaline through his veins. 

Jean finally rises close to half past eleven when Napoleon pokes his head around the door and watches Jean expectantly. Jeremy is at the stove signing quietly under his breath while he cooks, but at the scrape of a chair he turns to smile at Jean while he takes a seat at the counter. There are even more gifts and cards waiting in a pile on the living room table, probably kept separate by Jeremy so Jean would be less overwhelmed. (It’s a futile effort, he’s still unavoidably overwhelmed and panicked by all of the attention especially even when it’s positive, but the attempt calms him considerably.) Napoleon jumps up to settle on the empty chair at Jean’s side, and he distracts himself for the moment by petting his dog and watching Jeremy try (and fail) to flip crepes in the air, resulting in a messy kitchen floor and Jean’s helpless laughter at Jeremy’s embarrassed flush. The sly smile Jeremy doesn’t even try to hide suggests that Jean’s laughter may have been his goal all along. 

It’s almost noon by the time there’s enough crepes for both of them to eat, and Jean rolls his eyes when Jeremy pulls out nutella and plastic knives. For his, Jean pulls out and slices a lemon and a small dish of confectioner’s sugar, the proper way to eat them, and convinces Jeremy to at least try it the right way. He’s too American to appreciate it, scrunching up his nose at the taste and hoarding the nutella for himself, but that’s alright. 

It’s coming up to one by the time they finish eating and clean the kitchen, and Jean doesn’t know if either of them are planning to attend their afternoon classes. That seems to be settled when Jeremy sits down on the couch and gestures at the present pile. “It’s just from my family,” he promises at whatever look crosses Jean’s face, so Jean settles in next to Jeremy, pressed along his side. He wastes a few moments watching Jeremy until his boyfriend turns to face him, and then Jean kisses him for a moment, savoring the sweet taste of chocolate and sugar still leftover from breakfast and the gentleness that used to terrify him when they first started to tentatively transition from friends to something more. Now there’s nothing but warmth at the familiar privilege of being well loved. 

Jean eventually (reluctantly) shifts his attention to the presents. Martha made him cookies, a dozen of presumably every recipe in her kitchen, too many for even the both of them to eat by themselves. Jeremy laughs at he confused expression Jean wears when he stares into the tin and promises that they’ll take most of the sweets to the party later. From Justin and Maya are copies of Jeremy’s baby pictures, which makes Jeremy retract his arms from around Jean so that he can instead hide his face. Jean looks though them all once, feeling an uncontrollably large smile settle almost painfully on his face, but after that he sets them aside and coaxes Jeremy out with kisses and teasing in equal measure. The twins sent a sketch of the view of the starts from the porch of the house along with photos of the family and the yard for Jean’s wall collage. Millie’s gift is a hideously bedazzled and tye dyed crop top; Jean loves it and texts her to promise that he’ll wear it to his party later that night. Last is a drawing from Maggie made with Millie’s help and advice, a bean (their nonsensical nickname for him) surrounded by confetti and lopsided circles and hearts. 

The fact that it’s his birthday is the elephant in the room, but not in a bad way. Jeremy knows why he hates it and always will, the date reminding him of Riko’s insistence that his place with them was fated, 3/3, and he hasn’t said a word about the significance of the day. None of the Knox cards specifically mentioned his birthday, either, and Jean still isn’t sure why they love him enough to humor his unusual needs and go out of their way to accommodate him. But it’s the best birthday he’s ever had by far, and it gives him hope that someday he’ll even be able to look forward to this time of year. 

They’ll have a real party with the rest of the Trojans tonight--Jean even gave Alvarez permission to plan it however she liked, a change from the previous year’s lowkey Not Party, a quiet group movie with popcorn and cake in his and Jeremy’s living room. For now, he and Jeremy settle in with too many cookies and mindless daytime TV, Napoleon sprawled across their laps like the heaviest blanket ever. Jeremy will give him a present then, no matter how many times Jean told him not to, because he doesn’t understand that this is the best gift already, these quiet moments between them when Jean is relaxed and content, something he never dreamed he would be free to want and everything that matters to him now. He’s nowhere near what anyone would consider okay, but he’s so far from where he was two years ago, and he can’t imagine where he’ll be two years from now, but he’s starting to think that no matter where he is in the future, he’ll be happy. That’s enough for now.


End file.
